


Old Habits

by zinke



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-29
Updated: 2008-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:08:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: He can tell by the delicate flush on her cheeks that she is just as affected by this moment – the latest of so many reunions that have taken place this day – as he is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to survivalinstinct.net on March 29, 2008.
> 
> A vivid picture of this moment popped into my brain this morning and wouldn’t leave me alone, and seeing as this is the first time I the better part of a month I’ve felt like writing, I figured I should just go with the flow. Thanks to caz963 for the speedy edit.

The hangar deck is still awash with the at once strange and familiar sounds of people and machinery moving with renewed purpose when he steps through the hatch. Straightening his uniform, the Admiral moves forward towards the recently arrived Raptor, whose door is slowly yawning open. 

“Madame President.” Her hand, wonderfully solid and warm, slips gracefully into his as he helps to guide her down from the transport onto the hangar deck. He realizes he’s misspoken moment too late, but finds himself not regretting it in the slightest once he catches sight of the amused sparkle in her eyes as she regards him appraisingly, her gaze lingering noticeably on his mouth. He feels an exquisite heat bloom in his chest as his mind runs wild with long forsaken possibilities, egged on by ruby-tinged memories he’s been forcibly repressing these many lonely months. Her hand still cradled in his, Laura raises the other to lightly run the pad of her finger along the ridge of her upper lip, the corner of her mouth curling infinitesimally, tentative and teasing.

He savors the feel of her slender fingers pressed against his roughly calloused palm; he can tell by the delicate flush on her cheeks that she is just as affected by this moment – the latest of so many reunions that have taken place this day – as he is. “Old habits,” he explains with a grin. She blinks once, languidly, and then something shifts in her gaze and Bill knows instinctively that she is coming back to herself. He can see her dawning realization that their grasp has lingered well beyond the dictates of proper decorum, but when she tries to pull away, his grip on her hand tightens in unconscious protest. He feels her fingers flinch slightly against his palm at the increased pressure but her gaze does not falter; it is, more than anything, this momentary glimpse of spirit that reassures him that the past – and by the same turn their future – is not yet lost to them completely. 

She takes a hesitant step away from him, licks her lips before speaking. “Maybe there’s a reason they’re so hard to break.” Sensing that the moment is slipping away from them he takes advantage of this fleeting opportunity, studies the familiar curves and planes of her face while taking note of the changes months of fear and harsh living have wrought. The pale spidery line of a scar along her left temple gives him pause, adds fuel to the simmering guilt he’s carried with him like a talisman through the interminable months after he’d abandoned his people – his hope – on the Gods-forsaken planet below. 

“It’s good to see you again, Admiral.” She drops her gaze abruptly, reluctantly pulling her hand back in a renewed effort to free herself while at the same time looking the spitting image of a shy, love struck girl. This time he lets her go, but not before he indulges himself by sweeping the pad of his thumb over her knuckles in an eloquent caress. 

“It’s good to be seen.” 

*fin.*


End file.
